


Italy, 2018

by mae428



Series: Follow Me [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: M/M, Modern Era, Twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-24 17:19:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15635211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mae428/pseuds/mae428
Summary: Set in the "Somewhere on Twitter" verse -- Elio and Oliver visit CremaYou should definitely read Somewhere on Twitter first for some background ;) <3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: NSFW pics ahead ;)

**March 2018**

“Oliver...Oliver, hey. Ollll-iiiiii-verrrrr. Oliver, are you up?”

“I am now.”

“You were up. Don’t lie.”

“Fine, I was up.” The bed dips as Oliver rolls over to face Elio. It’s midnight, it’s dark, and Jackson’s snores are audible from the living room.

“I want to go to Italy.”

“You have school tomorrow.”

Elio sighs and pushes up onto his elbow so that he’s looming over Oliver as much as he can, given their size difference. “Not tomorrow. Quit being an asshole. I want to go for spring break. With you.”

“Oh.” Oliver is stunned into silence and he looks up at Elio, eyes wide. Aside from a road trip in October to go camping in the Adirondacks, they hadn’t taken a real vacation together. There were only a few disasters, but they’d made it through the weekend without losing limbs or the dog, so it was a successful trip by Oliver’s standards. “Like...with your parents?”

“I mean, I haven’t really asked them yet because I kind of just had this thought but...yeah, with my parents. I’d like for you to meet them in person and not just on FaceTime.”

“Oh.”

“You already said that.” Elio smiles and leans down to trail kisses over Oliver’s cheek to his mouth. “I want you to fuck me in my bedroom.” He kisses Oliver before he can respond, starting off with a languid exchange before deepening the kiss and even going so far as to tweak a nipple.

“Ah! Ah, okay, yes. I’ll come with you. Obviously.”

“Yes!” Elio cheers, immediately rolling off of Oliver to grab his phone from the nightstand. “I’m texting my parents. We need to buy tickets.”

Oliver laughs and wraps a hand around Elio’s waist, pulling him back against his side. “Hey, cool it. Let’s sleep and we can text them tomorrow.”

Elio pouts but easily lets himself be folded into Oliver’s arms again. “But I wanna book the tickets _now_.”

“Elio, they’re probably also asleep.” Oliver wrestles Elio’s phone out of his hands and places it on his own nightstand, out of Elio’s reach. “Tomorrow.”

Elio finally settles down into his usual sleeping position: his head on Oliver’s chest and a leg thrown over his hips, hitched high enough so that Elio can press right up against Oliver’s side. Oliver hums and drops one hand to Elio’s hair, the other wrapping around Elio’s lithe thigh. “I can’t wait to show you Crema.”

“You don’t want to go to Milan?”

“Eventually, but I want to take you to Crema first.”

“Mmmh...and what will we do there?”

“Swim. Play tennis. Read.”

“Will you play the piano for me?”

“Only if you fuck me on it when my parents aren’t home.”

“Remind me again why I’m dating a horny teenager?”

“Shh, go to sleep.”

“Oh _now_ you want to slee-”

“Shh, I’m sleeping.”

“Goodnight, Elio.”

*******

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/43051372895/in/dateposted-public/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/42148044570/in/dateposted-public/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/43051372765/in/dateposted-public/)

*******

Elio lets himself into his apartment to find Oliver already at the kitchen table, his face buried in a book. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” He drops his bags by the door, kicks off his shoes, and shrugs off his coat. “We had dinner plans.”

“Too cold to go out.” Oliver is clearly engrossed in whatever he’s reading, so Elio just kisses the top of his head as he passes by the table to get to his bedroom. Once he’s washed up and in sweats, he pads back out and flops into the seat next to Oliver.

“Is Jason out?” he asks, nodding towards his roommate’s closed door.

“Dunno. Door was closed when I got here.”

Elio pouts and kicks Oliver under the table. “Hey. Pay attention to me. I haven’t seen you in…” He glances down at his watch and he huffs. “Seven hours!”

It takes Oliver another minute, but he finally puts down his pen and looks up, unable to help but laugh at Elio’s put out expression. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” He leans in for a quick kiss, which completely erases all traces of Elio’s frown. “One of my students is making a compelling case for pink pussy hats.”

“Ugh, and just when I thought I was going to have a Trump-Free day.”

“Do those even exist anymore?”

“Hm. No, I suppose they don’t. Hey so, I texted my dad earlier.”

“Oh?”

“Yup. About Italy. He said we could fly out Thursday night, get there Friday morning.”

“Shit, really?”

“Yup.” Elio laughs and tangles their feet under the table. “He can pick us up at the airport on Friday. Oh, and remember I told you about Mafalda and Anchise? They’re gonna be there too!”

“I hope Mafalda doesn’t hate me.”

“We’re going to Italy in a month and _that’s_ your response?”

“Shut up.” Oliver playfully slaps Elio’s arm and rolls his eyes. “She sounds intense.”

“She is, but she’s gonna love you. Who wouldn’t?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Some strict Italian housekeeper who is probably a witch.”

“ _Strega Nona_ isn’t real, you know.”

“Shush, you.”

Elio just hums and leans in for another soft kiss. “So since you vetoed going out tonight,” he starts as he pushes up from the table, “we’re doing takeout, right?” He grabs his computer from his bag and makes himself comfortable on the ratty couch. “Also, I’m looking at flights and we’re booking them _tonight_.”

“Amateur,” Oliver boasts as he sits next to Elio and grabs his computer.

“Hey!”

“We have to track multiple flights for at least a week and then we’ll be able to find the cheapest option.”

“You’re boring and not spontaneous.”

“I’m older and wiser.”

Elio pulls out his phone and scrolls through Seamless for a good twenty minutes before deciding on their favorite sushi joint and ordering for the both of them. “I sprung for Sushi Seki,” he declares once Oliver finally closes the laptop.

“Let me guess,” he rearranges himself as Elio sprawls over his lap, “you put it on my card?”

“Of course I did. Thanks for dinner.”

“Brat,” Oliver teases with a tug to Elio’s curls.

“Hey! I just deep conditioned this morning. Don’t ruin ‘em.”

“Brat,” Oliver says again, but it’s fond and soft and so clearly full of adoration.

Later that night, after filling up sushi and binge watching _Game of Thrones_ , Elio flops face first onto his bed. “You better be staying,” he says into his pillow.

“I gotta get home to Jackson. I’ve been here too long already.”

Elio whines and rolls over to find Oliver standing next to his bed. He makes grabby hands up at his boyfriend and wriggles a little, trying to entice him. He knows it won’t work though, so he sighs in defeat just a few seconds later. “Wish I just lived with you.” Elio turns bright red after he says it and he immediately rolls onto his stomach again to hide his face. They’ve been dating for 10 months and Elio has already let slip that he wants to move in with Oliver.

“You could, you know,” Oliver says softly. “Once this year ends in May, you can move in with me. You’d still be close to school and I have plenty of room. Plus Jackson would love it.”

Elio is stunned into silence. Oliver Cooper, his fantastic, wonderful, handsome, amazing, sexy-as-hell boyfriend _actually_ just asked him to move in. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Oliver tugs at Elio’s shoulder, coaxing him onto his back. “Only if you want to. I don’t want to pressure you but...it feels right to me. This. All of this. Me and you and Jackson. I think it’d work out.”

“Can I- Can I think about it?”

Oliver laughs and pushes Elio’s curls off his forehead. “You’ve got two whole months to think about it.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Of course. Still on for meeting at the Guggenheim after class?”

“I can be there by 3.”

“Perfect.”

Elio surges up to kiss Oliver, and Oliver’s hands immediately cup Elio’s jaw, drawing him closer. Oliver lets Elio kiss him, lets Elio get lost in the sensation and even gets a little swept up himself.

“I have to go,” Oliver finally says, pulling back just a little. Elio is panting and Oliver smiles. That was _him_ . _He_ made Elio all hot and bothered.

“Text me when you get home?”

“I will. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

They seal it with one last kiss before Oliver is out the door.

 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/43957260891/in/dateposted-public/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/43238690284/in/dateposted-public/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/42148691250/in/dateposted-public/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/43051988525/in/dateposted-public/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/42148691130/in/dateposted-public/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/43051988495/in/dateposted-public/)


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you think they’re gonna like me?”

“They _already_ like you. It’s not like this is the first time you’re meeting them.”

“Yeah, but in person is so different from FaceTime.”

“Will you quit bouncing your leg?”

“I’m nervous!”

“Oliver. There’s nothing to be nervous about. My mom thinks you’re gorgeous, which you are, and my dad thinks you’re brilliant, which you are. So you’re already in good graces with both of them.”

“Fuck, Elio.”

“Oliver.” Elio squeezes Oliver’s hand, watches as he plunks his forehead against the small airplane window.

“Too late to turn back now, I guess,” he sighs, looking out at the black expanse of sky before him.

Elio laughs and kisses Oliver’s shoulder. “Definitely too late. Don’t worry, they’re going to absolutely love you. I promise.” He glances down at his watch and then presses up to switch off the overhead light. “Let’s try to sleep a little so we’re not sleeping all day once we finally get there.”

They make it through customs without issue and as soon as Elio spots his father at arrivals in Milan, he breaks out into a sprint.

"Papà!” He launches himself at Samuel, who easily catches his son.

“Elly-Belly, it’s nice to see you.” He kisses Elio’s curls and hugs him tight before stepping back. “Let me get a good look at you. Oh...Mamma will be so happy to see you.” Elio clears his throat and tries to duck out of his dad’s grip so he can introduce Oliver. “Oh!” Samuel finally looks up at the man standing behind Elio. “I’m guessing you’re Oliver.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Professor,” Oliver says, stepping forward and shaking his head.

“Please, it’s Samuel.”

Oliver is immediately put to ease by Samuel’s peaceful disposition and as they head out to the car, Elio slips his fingers between Oliver’s and gives his hand a light squeeze of reassurance.

“Mamma and Mafalda are busy cooking up a storm back at the house, so I hope you boys are hungry,” Samuel says as he pulls out onto the main road. “We’re about an hour out from Crema.”

Elio and Oliver are both huddled in the back seat because Elio refused to let Oliver sit alone. They spend the entire car ride pointing out different Milanese landmarks to Oliver and then Samuel goes into a tangent about olive trees as the landscape around them shifts into something more pastoral.

“Well, here we are,” Samuel says as they finally pull up the long driveway to the villa.

“Oh wow,” Oliver breathes, sticking his head out the open window to get a better look at the orchards as they drive up to the house. “All of this land is yours?”

“Yep!” Elio answers, leaning over Oliver to take a deep breath in of fresh country air. “Anchise takes care of the orchards. It’s not peach season, unfortunately, but he’s probably got a good crop of oranges and artichokes.”

They pull up to the house and Oliver is stunned into silence.  Elio had told him it was a big old house but that had been an understatement. It’s _huge_.

“Signora! Signora Perlman!” An old man hobbles from his spot in the shade to the front door. “Signora, loro sono qui.”

As soon as Oliver and Elio are out of the car, two women are immediately hugging Elio to their bosoms as Oliver and Samuel watch, bemused, from the sidelines.

“Stai mangiando? Sei così piccolo!”

“Oh, bambino, we are so happy to have you home.”

“Ma,” Elio protests, trying to shove his mother off as she starts petting his hair. And then there’s Mafalda who is still crushing him against his chest. “Okay, okay. Basta! I want to introduce you to Oliver.” Elio is finally let go and he’s a ruffled, rumpled mess, but he’s got a huge smile on his face. “Mamma, Mafalda, this is Oliver.”

“It’s so lovely to meet you, tesoro,” Annella coos, pulling Oliver into a warm hug after pressing kisses to both of his cheeks.

“Oh, sei alto! Elio, devi mangiare come il signor Oliver.”

“Maflada-aa-aaa,” Elio whines, rolling his eyes and blushing.

“What did she say?” Oliver asks before he can help himself.

Elio just rolls his eyes again, but he’s smiling. “Nothing. Andiamo, let me show you around.” Anchise grabs their bags as Elio tugs him into the house. Oliver wants to stop and look at everything, but Elio just pulls him from room to room, talking a million miles a minute about each of the rooms and some of their more prized pieces of art.

They finally make their way upstairs and Elio pushes open a door by a balcony. “This is my room,” he announces proudly, puffing out his chest a bit. It’s unchanged: posters from childhood still tacked up to the walls, photos he’d taken with his friends in secondary school, books stacked on his desk and bookshelves.

“Oh wow,” Oliver sighs as he strides right into the room. The ceilings are vaulted and, despite the typical teen decor, Oliver feels like he’s in a palazzo. “This is awesome.” He sits down on Elio’s bed, which is really just two twins pushed together, and Elio shuts the door before coming over to perch himself on Oliver’s lap.

“Mmmh. Do you like it?” he asks as he settles, knees on either side of Oliver’s hips. He doesn’t let Oliver answer, just leans in for a kiss.

“I do,” Oliver says once Elio pulls back. “Hey, what did Mafalda say about me?”

Elio laughs and presses his forehead to Oliver’s. “She said you’re tall and that I should eat like you, because clearly I don’t eat enough.” Oliver chuckles at that and squeezes Elio’s hips. “Stay here,” Elio says after another quick kiss. “I’ll bring our bags up.”

Once Elio comes back upstairs, bags in hand, Oliver is face down on his bed, fast asleep. Elio puts the bags down and changes into clean clothes before tiptoeing back downstairs. He finds his parents in the living room, the French doors wide open to let in fresh spring air.

“Where is our new muvi star?” Annella asks as Elio smooshes himself between his mom and dad.

“Sleeping.” That earns a laugh from Samuel, who is reading over the morning’s paper.

“We’ll wait to have lunch then,” Annella decides. Elio snuggles up against his mother, who strokes his hair and kisses the top of his head. “How have you been, my darling?”

“Good. Really good.” He sighs and closes his eyes. “Oliver wants me to move in with him after the semester ends.” He kind of just blurts it out, without really meaning to. “Um...you know, if that’s like...okay with you guys.”

“I don’t mind,” Samuel says, not looking up from the newspaper. “He’s a lovely boy, Elio. But it doesn’t matter if we think it’s okay or not. You’re the one who will be living with him. If you can concentrate on your studies and it’s not too far from school, I don’t see the problem.”

Elio sighs happily and shifts so that his head is in Annella’s lap, his legs draped over Samuel’s.

“Rest, tesoro. We’ll wake you once Oliver comes down.”

It’s an hour before Oliver finally stirs, changes into shorts, and makes his way downstairs. “Hi,” he says timidly as he steps into the living room.

“Elio, darling,” Annella says softly, gently shaking Elio’s shoulder. “Oliver is up. Come, we’ll have lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil short thing to get the creative juices flowing for the rest of their trip ;)
> 
> Comments, criticisms, ideas always welcome!! As always, [Follow Me On Tumblr](https://all-things-all-the-time.tumblr.com/) so we can scream about these boys!!! :)


	3. Chapter 3

“Fuck, my legs are sore,” Oliver mumbles around his toothbrush. The bathroom is big enough that they don’t need to be pressed shoulder to shoulder, but they are, the excitement of the day still brimming around them.

“My ass is sore.” Elio bends at the waist to spit and rinse his mouth before splashing cool water on his face. “Haven’t ridden a bike in ages.”

Oliver chuckles and gently shoves Elio out of the way to rinse his own mouth. “I think I can help out with that,” he murmurs, fondling Elio’s ass through his boxers.

“Oliver!” Elio cries, pushing teasingly at his chest.

“What?” Oliver wraps his arms around Elio’s waist, effectively trapping him and kissing all over his cheeks and neck.

“Stop, stop!” Elio’s laughter fills the bathroom as he squirms against Oliver’s chest. “Olll-iiiiv-errrrr!”

“Alright, alright, alright.” Oliver lets up and presses one more kiss to Elio’s lips before letting go and striding back into the bedroom. Elio joins him a few minutes later, shutting off the bedside lamp and climbing on top of Oliver.

“Hi,” he coos, settling on Oliver’s hips.

“ ‘m sleepy.”

“Oliver.”

“Elio.”

“Oliver! It’s our first night in Italy!” Elio rolls his hips and pushes his nose under Oliver’s jaw so that he can kiss over Oliver’s neck.

“Mmhmm. It is.”

“Well. Aren’t you gonna fuck me?”

“Thought your ass was too sore.”

“I just said it _is_ sore, not that it’s _too_ sore.”

“Hmmm...really?”

“Really! Pleeaaaaseeee. You promised you’d fuck me in my bed. And we’re only here for a week.” Elio pulls back to find Oliver smiling, that little indulgent smile that Elio is so familiar with. “Hey! You just wanted to hear me beg.”

“Mmm. Maybe.” Before Elio can accuse Oliver of any more transgressions, Oliver is rolling them over, slotting his hips between Elio’s and capturing his lips. It only takes a few seconds for Elio to start clawing at Oliver’s tee-shirt and bucking his hips up. “Hey, hey.” Oliver pulls back a little so he can ruck up Elio’s shirt. “Calm down, baby. I’m right here.”

“Get the lube,” Elio demands, sitting up and pulling his shirt off over his head. “It’s in my bag.”

Oliver stumbles out of bed, dragging the sheets with him which earns a snort from Elio. Oliver is torn between rifling through Elio’s toiletries bag and taking off his own clothes, but when he finally gets back into bed, he’s blessedly naked and clutching the tiny bottle.

“Can’t believe you brought this with you.”

“What was I gonna do? Oh hey mom and dad, I just gotta run into our tiny Italian town where I know _everyone_ and buy lube from the pharmacy where I’ve known the owner for my _entire life_.”

“Good call.” Oliver slicks his fingers and sits back on his heels just as Elio settles.

“Please,” he sighs, arching his back and wriggling a little.

“Shh, lemme just look at you,” Oliver says. He rakes his eyes over Elio’s body, lithe and smooth on soft yellow sheets, dark curls splayed over the pillows, eyes heavy-lidded and legs spread. “God, you’re gorgeous.” Oliver teases at Elio’s hole before pressing in the first lubed finger.

“A-Ah! Fuck, Oliver.” Elio closes his eyes and arches his back, finally relaxing as Oliver’s finger pushes in. It feels different this time, more special. They’re in Italy, on their first _real_ trip together, in Elio’s childhood bedroom.

“That’s it, baby. Feel good?” Elio just nods as Oliver begins moving his finger. Oliver always likes to talk during sex, likes to praise Elio and tell him just how pretty he is. But he’s unusually quiet tonight, just watching Elio as he soon presses in a second finger.

“You okay?” Elio asks, propping himself up on his elbows and trying to catch Oliver’s gaze. “You’re quiet.”

“You’re just...so perfect.” Oliver folds himself over Elio kissing him until they’re both dizzy. Of course Elio has made such an impact on Oliver’s life - he’s genuinely happier since he and Elio started dating almost a year ago. Elio is like a best friend and boyfriend all rolled into one, and aside from that, he’s charming and gorgeous and easy to talk to and brilliant and funny and _fuck_ , Oliver realizes, with three fingers up Elio’s ass on his childhood bed, that he wants to be with Elio for the rest of his life. “Just...I love you so much.”

“Sap,” Elio accuses, but he smiles and kisses Oliver again. “Love you too.”

Oliver slips his fingers out of Elio, who whines when he’s left empty as Oliver lubes up his cock. “Stop being a brat,” Oliver murmurs, quickly positioning himself. “You only had to wait two seconds.”

"Yeah, and you keep prolonging it. C’mon. Want you inside me.”

Oliver can’t deny Elio any longer, and he presses the head of his cock against Elio’s slick hole. “You sure you’re not too sore?”

“Fuck yo- Ah! _Fuck_ , Oliver. Fuck. Always feels so good.”

Oliver chuckles and thrusts his hips just a bit more until he’s fully inside Elio. “Amazing. You’re amazing, baby. So incredible.”

“Could get off just from that,” Elio teases, but then there’s a glint in Oliver’s eyes. “Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

“Yeah? Think you can get off just on my voice, baby?”

“Oliver, _please_ touch me.”

“Alright, but only because we’re both jet lagged and I know how much of a brat you can be when you haven’t cum _and_ when you’re tired.” Oliver gets a hand between them and around Elio’s cock just as he begins rolling his hips, and Elio lets out a soft cry. “Shh, your parents are just down the hall, Elio.”

“Can’t help it. Feel so good inside me. Ah!” Oliver thrusts in hard enough to jolt Elio a bit on the bed. “Like that, fuck.” Oliver does just that, fucking Elio at a steady pace and jacking him off in perfect time. “ ‘m gonna...I’m close. Can you...fuck, I want you to cum on me.” Oliver pulls out a few seconds later and wraps his hand around both of their cocks. “Love how big your hands are, _fuck_.”

“Elio.”

“Oliver, fu-” Elio tumbles over the edge, his cum further slicking Oliver’s hand. Oliver comes just a moment after, spurting over Elio’s tummy and chest. Elio hums and smears Oliver’s cum over his skin with a shaky hand, still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Oliver is just about to topple on top of Elio but he’s gently pushed away with Elio’s clean hand. “No, c’mon. We’re gross.”

Oliver groans and leans over the side of the bed, grabbing his discarded shirt from earlier. He wipes at Elio’s chest and stomach as well as both of their hands before tossing the shirt back on the floor. “Maybe I should put that away.” Oliver flops back down on the bed, making no move to put away the shirt or lube.

“Mmmh…” Elio drapes himself over Oliver, twisting his long limbs around Oliver’s and trapping him. “Mafalda always looks for signs.”

“Fuck.” Oliver tries to push up, not wanting to give Mafalda any reason to hate him.

Elio just laughs and pulls Oliver back down. “I’m just teasing you. C’mere, we gotta sleep. I wanna bring you to my special spot tomorrow.”

The next morning, after a breakfast of soft boiled eggs (which Elio had to crack for Oliver), toast (which Elio smeared with Nutella), and fresh fruit (of which Elio at most), Elio tugs Oliver to the bikes leaning up against the side of the house.

“Aw, bikes _again_?” Oliver whines, but he still grabs the yellow bike that he’s pretty sure is from the ‘80s. He asks Elio as much as they pedal down a dirt path.

“Yep, real vintage, right? My parents bought them for each other when they got married. This way!” Elio makes a quick left down a narrow path, but Oliver quickly overtakes him, pedaling fast with no hands on the handlebars. “Hey!” Elio works his legs faster until he finally surges past Oliver, just at the cusp of his special place. He hops off his bike, tosses it to the ground, kicks off his shoes and practically flies down the hill to the water’s edge. “Come on!” he shouts over his shoulder as he hops in.

“Jesus, it’s _freezing_!” Oliver slowly makes his way in, and by the time he reaches Elio, who is knee deep in the water, Elio pounces. He jumps right onto Oliver’s back, forcing him further into the water. Oliver yelps, and as Elio slides off his back, Oliver turns on him with an absolutely predatory look. Oliver starts the splashing, but Elio just splashes right back, and they’re soon both soaking wet.

They lounge in the grass after, eating the bread, cheese, and fruit Mafalda packed in Elio’s backpack. They dry off in the sun, exchanging soft kisses as Elio tells Oliver all about the books he read on that very bank when he was younger. And Oliver’s revelation from the night before holds true: he absolutely wants to spend every waking moment with Elio Perlman by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, criticisms, ideas always welcome!! :) I do have a question for y'all -- do you like the writing style of part 2? The writing of the actual narrative is pretty different from what I usually do (any of you reading the Poetry in Motion series know I'm more of the past-tense Elio's POV sort). But yeah. Does this present tense, switching POV, more casual style work for you guys? THANKS!! <3 
> 
> As always, [Follow Me On Tumblr](https://all-things-all-the-time.tumblr.com/) so we can scream about these boys!!! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italian translations at the end!

It seems that, even on vacation, old habits die hard. Oliver wakes up before Elio, who is flopped across the bed on his stomach, sheets twisted around his body so that only one arm, one leg, and half his ass are visible. Oliver stays in bed for a few minutes longer; the room is only barely lit and Oliver guesses it’s around seven. He looks around the room, studying the posters and pictures from his spot on the bed with a softy snoring Elio pressed against his side. Finally, he gets up and dresses for a run. 

The house is quiet as he tiptoes down the stairs, no one else up yet. He takes his time stretching and picking a playlist before studying Google Maps and memorizing a path for once he’s out of Wi-Fi range. He straps his phone to his arm and is off, jogging down the dirt path and away from the Perlman villa. 

It’s different running on dirt, trees all around him, grass and flowers and vineyards and farms. His feet don’t ache like they do at home with every pound against the pavement. He takes out his headphones just fifteen minutes in. There’s no need for headphones here. No need to drown out the sound of ambulances and car horns and people. Oliver misses Jackson, smiles at the thought of how much fun he’d have out running in the dirt and grass, but he’s happy he doesn’t have to deal with the aftermath of mud-caked paws.

When Oliver makes it back to the villa (he’s honestly proud of himself for not getting totally lost), the lights are flipped on in the kitchen and Mafalda is busy with preparing breakfast.

“Hi. Or uh...Ciao,” Oliver says hesitantly.

“Ciao, Signor Ullivar! Siediti, sembri stanco. Prendi un caffè. Sei affamato ora? Vuoi colazione? Oh, sei così bello, non mi sorprende che piaccia a Elio.”

“Oh um...okay…” Oliver sits in the chair Mafalda pulls out for him at the small breakfast table. He’s quickly supplied with coffee  _ and _ juice  _ and _ fruit  _ and  _ toast with copious amounts of marmalades. “Thank you. Grazie. Grazie so much.” Oliver busies himself with pouring cream into his coffee and then spreading a different type of marmalade on each bite of toast. As she prepares breakfast for the rest of the crew, Mafalda prattles away in Italian, just chatting with no expectation of a response from Oliver.

“Elio adora New York. Ci manca qui, ma è molto felice. Posso dire quando è felice. Faresti meglio a tenerlo così! E assicurati che mangi, il ragazzo è troppo magro.” Oliver just munches on his toast as quietly as he can so as not to disturb Mafalda.

“Morning.” Elio finally shuffles into the kitchen, hair astray and dressed in boxers and one of Oliver’s old Counting Crows tee-shirts. 

“Look who is finally up,” Oliver teases as Elio comes to stand right next to Oliver. He hums and wraps his arms around Oliver’s neck, about to bend down to kiss the top of his head when he suddenly recoils.

“Ugh, gross! You’re all sweaty!”

“Yep. Because I went for a run while you got your beauty sleep.”

“Gross,” Elio repeats, glowering as he pours himself some coffee. “At least beauty comes naturally for  _ one _ of us. 

“Mafalda, hai dato fastidio a Oliver per tutta la mattina?”

“Solo un po.”

“Buona. Forse poi starà a letto con me domani invece di venire al piano di sotto.”

“Elio!” Annella emerges from the doorway, piling her hair on top of her head in a huge clip. “Don’t be rude.”

“Mi dispiace, Mamma.” It's said with Elio's signature eye roll, which ears a slap on the arm from Annella.

Despite the slight breeze, Elio and Oliver spend the afternoon out in the sunny patch of grass in the garden. It’s just warm enough that they’re comfortable in shorts and tee-shirts, Elio even going so far as to take a quick dip in the pool.

Elio leaves Oliver outside while he goes to shower, and Oliver is occupied with his book for a good ten minutes before Annella joins him in the garden.

“How are you enjoying your trip so far, Oliver?”

“Oh, it’s great, Mrs. P.,” he says, pushing up onto his elbows. “You guys have been fantastic. Thanks again for letting us stay here.”

“It’s our pleasure, tesoro. We’re so happy to finally meet you.”   


“Here, let me help.” Oliver leaps up and takes a basket from Annella, holding it for her as she plucks oranges from the trees around the perimeter of the garden. They work in silence for a few minutes, until they hear Elio plucking at his guitar in the house. “You know, he still hasn’t played the piano for me.”

“I’ll tell him to play before you leave. Samuel and I have missed his playing.”

“I’m sure you really miss him around here.”

“Mmmh. We do. But he’s enjoying New York.”

“You guys should visit sometime soon. He’s really thriving.” Oliver cringes a little. He sounds like he’s talking about one of his students. “He’s doing well in school and really making the most of his time in the city.”

“You’re good for him,” Annella says, placing the last orange in the basket and brushing a hand through Oliver’s hair.

Oliver flushes and smiles. “I think he’s the one that’s good for me.”   
  
“You’re good for each other. Come, tesoro. Samuel wants to show you his catalog of antiquities.”

That night, Annella invites her sister, brother-in-law, and their children to dinner. It’s a full house and the table is packed. Wine is poured, candles are lit, and everyone takes their place as Mafalda puts the final platters on the table.

“Oh my God." Oliver takes one bite of Mafalda’s braised artichoke hearts and he’s immediately in heaven. “Oh, these are delicious.”

Elio giggles and puts his hand on Oliver’s knee under the table. “You alright there?”

“Uh...no. This is the best artichoke I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

“Elio says you cook, Oliver,” Annella says from across the table, wine glass in hand. “I do, a bit. I’m not the best but -”

“Stop denying it,” Elio says, rolling his eyes. “You’re the best cook I know. Aside from Mafalda of course.”

“You should cook with her tomorrow. I’m sure she’d love it.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Pro. I don’t know if she’ll want an amateur messing things up in the kitchen.”

“Please. She loves you. She can’t stop  _ gushing _ about you. Oliver this. Oliver tha-”

“Elio!” 

“Sorry, sorry.”

After breakfast and a jog the next day, Oliver broaches the subject with Mafalda. Or rather, Elio does it for him.

“Mafalda,” he sing-songs, draping himself over her and kissing her cheek. “Oliver ama cucinare.”

“Bene bene. Devi mangiare di più. Digli di darti da mangiare.”

“Vuole che tu gli insegni alcune delle tue ricette oggi.”

Mafalda freezes and looks at Oliver, and then at Elio. “Digli di venire ad aiutarmi dopo pranzo. Puoi tradurre.”

As promised, after lunch, Elio drags Oliver into the kitchen. “She’s gonna hit me with a wooden spoon or something.”

“That’ll just make it more authentic.”

With Oliver’s help, it takes Mafalda an extra hour to prepare dinner. As Mafalda rattles off instructions in Italian, Oliver takes notes while Elio translates. She shows Oliver a few steps of each recipe before pushing the ingredients towards him, watching closely as he tries to perfectly mimic everything Mafalda just showed him. They time how long the fish is baked in cigarettes and they measure herbs by the handful. It ends up that Elio is the one who gets his hand slapped with a wooden spoon, but they’re greeted with a round of applause from Samuel and Annella as they bring dinner to the table. 

“A smashing success,” Elio cries as they make their way up to their bedroom later. He’s drunk on rosatello and Oliver is tipsy on limoncello. They’re stumbling and giggling up the steps, Annella and Samuel watching with fond smiles from the bottom of the staircase.

Oliver shushes Elio and gently pushes him into the bedroom. “You’re being drunk and disorderly.”

“Ooooh, cuff me, Officer.” 

“Elio.”

Elio furrows his brows and puts on a mock-serious scowl. “Oliver.” They’re quiet for a second before both bursting into laughter again. Elio flops onto his bed and scrolls through his phone for a bit, looking at pictures from the past few days. “Hey, look at this amazing picture of you and Mafalda. I’m totally pos-  _ Ooof _ .”

Oliver flops on top of Elio, steals his phone, and they’re soon in a tangle of sheets and limbs and kisses.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/43117059285/in/dateposted-public/)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/43974367382/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations --  
> Mafalda and Oliver at Breakfast:  
> "Hi, Mr. Ullivar! Sit down, you look tired. Have some coffee. Are you hungry? Do you want breakfast? Oh, you're so beautiful, no wonder Elio likes you so much. " ... "Elio loves New York. We miss him here, but he is very happy. I can see when he is happy. You'd better keep him like this! And make sure he eats, that boy is too thin."
> 
> When Elio comes into the kitchen:  
> "Mafalda, did you bother Oliver all morning?"  
> "Just a little."  
> "Good. Maybe he'll stay in bed with me tomorrow instead of coming downstairs."
> 
> Asking Maflada to teach Oliver:  
> "Mafalda," he sing-songs, draping himself over her and kissing her cheek. "Oliver loves cooking."  
> "Good, good. You must eat more. Tell him to feed you."  
> "He wants you to teach him some of your recipes today."  
> Mafalda freezes and looks at Oliver, and then at Elio. "Tell him to come help me after lunch. You can translate."
> 
> Comments/criticisms/ideas always welcome! And, of course, [Follow Me On Tumblr](https://all-things-all-the-time.tumblr.com/) so we can scream about these boys!!! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**THE NEXT MORNING**

Elio decides he wants a day with his mom, which is understandable. They’re close, Oliver can see that, and he’s only slightly jealous that he’s not as close with his parents. It almost makes him want to reach out, try to make amends. But then he thinks of how the Perlmans have already accepted him into their lives, and he figures that having them as surrogate parents is a thousand times better than trying to rebuild the broken relationship he has with his own.

Annella and Elio drive off in the Perlman’s small blue car, already gossiping and laughing as Oliver waves and watches them pull out of the driveway. They’re off to a nearby lake just until the afternoon, leaving Oliver behind with his books and the sunshine and a bowl of fruit. He reads for a while out in the garden, but his eyes keep flicking to the window of Professor Perlman’s study. Samuel has been in there all morning, preparing for his students’ final exams. Oliver can’t keep his mind off his conversation with Adam, and he can only stand to read for about ten minutes before he’s up and striding into the professor’s study.

“Uh, Professor Perlman?” Oliver raps his knuckles on the door jamb and Samuel looks up with a smile.

“Please, Oliver. It’s _Samuel_. You’re part of the family now, aren’t you? Come in, come in.” Samuel pushes away from his desk and relaxes back in his chair as Oliver takes a seat.

“I really love this study,” he starts lamely, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks around. “You’ve amassed so much over the years.”

“You should see the study _and_ the spare bedroom in Milan. Annella has threatened to put a lock on Elio’s old room to keep me from filling it with _più cose_.”

“I’m sure she has her vices too,” Oliver teases, an easy smile sliding back on his face.

“Oh, she does. You should see how many paints and canvases and charcoals she has.”

“Ah, so she’s an artist?”

“Just a hobby,” Samuel says with a wave of his hand. He lights a cigarette and takes a few drags, relaxing back in his chair further.

“So um, I’ve actually got a question for you…”

“Oh? Something in the academic field?”

“Ah, no.” Oliver wipes his palms on his shorts and squirms in his chair. “It’s about Elio.”

“Mmh...And what about Elio?”

“So, I don’t...ah, _fuck_.” Oliver’s throat is suddenly dry and his heart is beating so fast and hard that he’s sure it might pop right out of his chest.

“Go on, son.”

Oliver’s eyes flick up to Samuel, who is watching him with amusement and curiosity. “Right, okay. So I don’t want to _ask for his hand_ , because that seems antiquated and I feel like Elio would hate that. But...yeah, I think I want to propose to him. I know we’ve only been together for eleven months and he’s young, but Professor, he’s the best thing to ever happen to me. We’re just...we’re so in sync and I -”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Oliver.” Oliver realizes that he’s been talking so fast that he’s out of breath. Samuel looks serious now - dead serious - and Oliver feels his heart drop. “You know, my son asked if he could move in with you the other day.”

“O-Oh?” Oliver feels like he’s going to throw up. He had no idea Elio had asked about moving in and Elio hadn’t said anything afterward.

“Mmh. And I told him that as long as he could concentrate on his studies, that it was fine by us. It is, after all, his decision.”

“Oh.” Oliver relaxes, just a bit, but he’s still sweating.

“It’s been a monumental four days, to say the least.”

“Profe- _Samuel_ , if I could just…” Oliver swallows hard before continuing. “I’d like to propose to him. At the end of May or early June. We can wait as long as he wants, we don’t have to get married right away. I just want to make it clear how much he means to me. Like I said, he’s the best thing to ever happen to me, and that trip has really solidified that. I’m not in touch with my family anymore, but being here...I’ve felt more loved and more accepted in four days than I have in my entire life. And I don’t think I can be without him, or you guys, now that I’ve had this for a year.”

“Let me tell you something. Annella and I have gone through painful times in our marriage. And each time we ask ourselves, ‘What do we do with this?’ The answers aren’t always obvious or easy, but I can say that walking through all of that together has made our life and marriage sweeter. We persevered through difficulty and pain. And I’m able to see now that sometimes unexpected blessings come from the hard times. The suffering and pain we encountered on our journey have actually made our marriage stronger. So in your darkest days, remember this: There is great hope for the future of your marriage.”

“Professor, I -”

“Elio is happier than I’ve ever seen before. And that's because of you. Every time he talks to us, we can't get a word in edgewise because he only talks about you and your dog." Samuel smiles indulgently and Oliver swallows. "I reiterate what I told him: as long as he can concentrate on his studies, you have my blessing. And we, too, are blessed to welcome you into our family as a son.”

Oliver tries to come up with something to say, _anything_ to say, that’ll sound better than a simple thank you. Because thank you doesn’t quite cut it. Instead, he launches up out of his chair. Thankfully, Samuel meets him halfway and envelopes Oliver in a tight warm hug. “Thank you so much,” he chokes out, clinging to Samuel.

“We love you already, Oliver.”

Oliver makes himself comfortable in Samuel’s office after that, and the two of them spend the rest of the morning reading, chatting, and discussing ancient philosophy and Renaissance art. Annella and Elio are back after lunch, their giggles announcing their arrival. Elio comes into the study, his arms wrapped around his mother, cheeks flushed and his sunglasses perched on top of his messy curls, and Oliver _instantly_ smiles, giddy at the thought of a potential engagement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments/criticisms/ideas always welcome! And, of course, [Follow Me On Tumblr](https://all-things-all-the-time.tumblr.com/) so we can scream about these boys!!! :)


	6. Chapter 6

On their second to last full day in Crema, the boys decide to bike into town for a breakfast on their own. They race each other down dirt and gravel paths, laughing and whooping as they take one another on. After locking up their bikes, Elio leads Oliver to his favorite caffè and they perch at a little white iron table outside. A waiter comes over, someone Elio must recognize because they share a warm smile.

“Due cappuccini e due cornetti, per favore.” The confidence with which Elio orders for them both strikes something deep within Oliver and he almost proposes on the spot. Elio and the waiter chat in Italian for a few minutes and Oliver can’t help but smile.

“You should speak Italian more,” he says when they’re alone again. 

Elio giggles and reaches across the table and folds his fingers over Olivers. “Am I turning you on, baby?”

“Mmhm.”

“Keep it in your pants until we’re home. Oh, and my parents are going to be out this afternoon, so we have the house to ourselves.”

“Mafalda and Anchise?”

“They’re going to the market together.”

“Are they -?”

“ _ No _ , no. God no. Gross.”

Oliver chuckles and strokes his thumb over Elio’s smooth skin. “Will you show me around the town before we go back home?”

“Of course. My parents don’t leave until 2. They’re going to some sort of boring seminar or something.” The waiter comes back with their breakfasts, and after one sip of coffee, Oliver is a changed man.

“Damn,” he sighs, “and I thought  _ Mafalda’s _ coffee was good. Well,” he takes another sip, “all other coffee is ruined for me now.”

After breakfast, Elio takes Oliver’s hand again and leads him around Crema, tugging him around town and pointing out highlights: the alley where he had his first kiss, the bar where the local group of old men play poker, even taking him into the Duomo to admire the architecture. They take a long route home, stopping occasionally to take photos and share kisses.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/43359608464/in/dateposted-public/)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/29140753397/in/dateposted-public/)

By the time they get back home, the villa is empty. Elio tries to tug Oliver up to the bedroom, but Oliver stops in the entryway.

“Come on,” Elio whines, pulling on Oliver’s arm, pouting at how he won’t move. “I want you inside me.”

“Can you play for me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll play you like a fiddle, baby, just  _ please _ .”

“No, Elio.” Oliver tugs back and pulls Elio to his chest. “I want you to play the piano for me. Now.”

Elio blushes and shrugs. “I dunno…”

“Please?”

Elio wants to play for Oliver, he does, but he’s also nervous. He hasn’t played in ages and he wants to impress Oliver. “What if I teach you how to play something?”

“Hmm...I think I can accept that answer for now.” Oliver goes to sit down at the piano bench, and he pushes it out a bit so that Elio can perch on his lap.

“Okay. This is middle C.” He takes Oliver’s hand and places his finger on the appropriate key.

“Middle C. Got it. So is this right-hand C?” he asks, moving his finger one key up.”

“No,” Elio laughs, “that’s D.” Elio continues to show Oliver the notes through giggles and soft kisses. They only make it through the first two notes of a C Major Scale when Oliver starts kissing over Elio’s shoulder. “Oliver,” he whines, although he tilts his head to the side to give Oliver more room, “ ‘m trying to teach you.”

“I think I’ve had enough learning for today,” Oliver hums against Elio’s neck.

“Fu-uck,” Elio sighs, wiggling a little on Oliver’s lap. 

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

“You. All of you. Right here.”

Oliver growls and, in an instant, has Elio perched up on the keys, the instrument letting out a dissonant sound. “Up, up, up,” he chants as he settles Elio. “Off, off, off,” as he tugs off Elio’s shorts.”

“Oliver! Oliver,  _ not  _ on the piano.”

“ _ Yes _ , on the piano.” Oliver pushes the bench out of the way and sinks to his knees in front of Elio, who drapes his legs over Oliver's shoulders. 

“You’re fucking craz-ah!” Oliver laps a stripe over Elio’s hole, not holding back for even a second before he buries his face in Elio’s ass and eats him out like a ripe peach. “Fuck, fuck, fu-u-uck.” Elio supports himself with one hand on the keys and the other in Oliver’s hair, pulling and tugging at the soft strands. He tries to squirm, but the keys just dig into his ass, so he tries to stay as still as possible as Oliver licks into him.

“God, you taste so good,” Oliver sighs against Elio’s hole before pointing his tongue and pushing it right back in. 

“Please,” Elio finally says a few moments later. His voice is raw and used from his constant stream of moans and praise for Oliver. “Please, can I touch myself?” Oliver hums his assent and Elio’s hand is on his cock in an instant. He smears precum down the shaft before jacking himself hard and fast, no patience for any sort of teasing. “Gonna cum, Ol,” Elio warns, feeling the tell-tale tightening of his balls.

Oliver pulls back and looks up at Elio, devious smile splitting his spit-slicked lips. “Cum on my face, baby,” he says, pushing two fingers into Elio’s hole. Just as he does so, Elio’s release hits him, every muscle in his body tensing as he spills over Oliver’s face, thick ropes of cum falling over tanned and beautiful features.

“Kiss me. Get the fuck up here and kiss me.”

Oliver does just as he’s told and stands, letting his fingers slip out of Elio’s hole. Elio leans forward and licks up the stripes of cum over Oliver’s cheek, chin, and nose before kissing him, his cum sticky and warm between their lips. 

“Cum on me,” Elio demands between kisses. He reaches between them to shove Oliver’s shorts down. He finds that they’re already unbuttoned and unzipped, his cock wrestled out of its confines. Elio smirks; Oliver couldn’t hold back. He wraps his hand around Oliver’s cock. “Cum on me, Oliver. Mark me as I’ve marked you. Right here.” Before Oliver has a chance to respond, he’s choking out Elio’s name, cumming all over his stomach, a bit even landing on Elio’s now soft cock. “We’ve made such a mess,” Elio tsks, running his finger through Oliver’s cum and then bringing it to his lips. “What will Mafalda think?”

“We bet-” Oliver’s voice cracks, so he clears his throat and tries again. “We better get upstairs. Clean up before anyone comes home.”

They do exactly that, and no one else in the villa is suspicious of their activities. 

After dinner, the Perlmans decide to go out for drinks and dessert in Crema. They all pile into the car and drive the short distance into town. Annella places her hand over Samuel’s, which is on the shift. The boys mirror them in the back, Elio’s hand draped over Oliver’s on the seat between them. 

They settle at an outdoor caffè in the main piazza with a gorgeous view of the Duomo. Samuel even went as far as to request Elio’s dessert come out with a candle, and they all join in a rousing rendition of the American birthday song, which earns a few confused looks from passersby. 

“We’re sorry we won’t be with you for your birthday, tesoro.”

“That’s alright,” Elio shrugs, plucking the candle off of his tiramisu. “You’re only missing it by a few days anyway.” Elio’s birthday is the day after they return from Crema. Coincidentally, it’s also Jackson’s birthday, which Elio derived great joy from.

“It’s fate!” he’d cried when Oliver had told him. Oliver just laughed as Elio continued shouting about the luck of the universe.

“It’s a big one for you in New York. 21.”

“Please, I’ve been drinking since I was -” Elio cuts himself off, suddenly looking sheepish, “umm...eighteen.”

“We know you had your first drink when you were fourteen Elly-Belly,” Samuel chides, much to Oliver’s delight. “You didn’t really think we wouldn’t notice when you’d watered down our gin.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/29140753307/in/dateposted-public/)

Elio wakes up early the next morning, their last full day, strangely free of any hangover whatsoever. He hums and stretches languidly on the bed, trying to wiggle out of Oliver’s strong grasp and into the pockets of sunshine warming the sheets. Oliver’s breath is warm against his cheek and he smells slightly of wine. Elio slowly and carefully unwinds himself, just throwing on a pair of boxers before tiptoeing downstairs. He expected his father to be awake, as he was their designated driver the night before. His mother, he knew, would be asleep for at least another two hours and would probably need a bottle of painkillers before even opening her eyes. 

They’d drank heavily the night before, ordering bottle after bottle of wine at the caffè. Soon enough, Elio, Annella, and Oliver were all in stitches, giggling over nothing. Samuel herded them into the car with an amused smile. The car ride home was quiet, Annella almost immediately falling asleep. Samuel glanced up into the rearview mirror to check on Oliver and Elio, but he blushed and quickly looked away when he saw them sharing a kiss in the backseat. 

Elio roams around the house a bit, taking stock of the new paintings on the walls or the relocated nicknacks from one room to another. He sits in Samuel’s study for a half hour, draping himself over the old crushed velvet couch. He then makes a stop in the kitchen to munch on a peach, one of the first of the season. It isn’t as soft and ripe as he prefers, but he loves the explosion of sweet yet slightly tart juice on his tongue.

By the time he’s finished with his peach, it’s after 8 am, so he figures it’s time to wake up the household. He meanders into the living room to find the piano bench exactly where Oliver left it: pushed to the side, obviously discarded for another purpose. The sheet music on the stand is slightly crumpled and Elio does his best to straighten everything out. 

Once back to normal, Elio takes a seat and stretches out his neck and back before setting his fingers to the keys. He begins playing Maurice Ravel’s third movement of Mirrors: “Une Barque Sur L'océan,” letting the arpeggiated sections and sweeping melodies flow from his fingers. He hears a rustle about halfway through and looks up to find Oliver sitting in one of the faded green armchairs, phone on his lap.

“Are you recording me?”

“I was tempted, but no. Just took a photo. Our last day and you  _ finally _ play for me?”

“Hey, we still have tomorrow.”

“We only have half the day tomorrow before we need to leave for the airport.”

Elio doesn’t respond, just continues to play, lets the music flow right into the fourth movement. He finishes the piece twenty minutes later, and as soon as he releases the final notes, Oliver is striding over to the piano. He cups Elio’s cheeks and leans down to kiss him, hard and demanding and with the promise of  _ more more more _ . 

It begins raining just as they finish lunch, so everyone heads into the living room. Elio plays for a bit as Oliver and the Perlmans read. After a few hours, Elio stands and cracks his back before heading for the staircase. He brushes his fingers through Oliver’s hair as he passes. He continues to read until his phone dings. He glances down, but doesn’t answer, just watches the texts filter in.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/44101988001/in/dateposted-public/)

“Go on,” Samuel finally says, anused, but not looking up from his book. “He’ll just keep bothering you if you don’t go up.”

Elio and Oliver spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, fucking and exchanging languid kisses and fucking again and teasing and touching and  _ more and more and more and more.  _

That night at dinner, Elio dons a pink Lacoste button down.

“Never seen this,” Oliver said after Elio had slipped it on. He plucked at the sleeve and then pulled Elio closer by it, kissing over his jaw and neck.

“That’s because I left it here.”

“Bring it home. Looks nice on you.” They were twenty minutes late for dinner, but no one said a word.

They sit outside for dinner, the rain having cleared an hour prior. Elio wears his dark sunglasses even though it’s dusk. He exudes a cool air of sensuality, and Oliver finds he’s drawn to Elio more than ever before. He grabs his phone and snaps a photo, one which he hopes he can keep for himself. A little slice of Elio just for him. 

Later that night, Elio and Oliver lay naked in bed, the sheets tangled around their waists. Elio grabs Oliver’s phone and starts flipping through, eager to find the selfies they’d taken earlier that week. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Oliver’s voice is low and lazy, eyes closed as he traces over Elio’s chest.

“This picture of me is  _ amazing _ . You have to post it.”

Oliver cracks open an eye and huffs a laugh when he sees the picture of Elio that night at dinner. “Nuh-uh. No. That one’s for me.”

“Aw, but I look so  _ cool _ in it. C’mon. I’ll even edit it for you.” Elio goes quiet then, and Oliver lets him do whatever he wants to the picture. “Okay,” he finally says, tapping Oliver’s hand. “Here. I fixed it. If you post it, do a cool caption. Like an emoji or like just tag me or something.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/29140752787/in/dateposted-public/)

They leave at 3 pm the next day. They spend the morning lounging out in the orchard, Oliver reading as Elio strums his guitar. Around eleven, Annella joins them, then Samuel thirty minutes later. They head in for lunch around twelve, during which Mafalda caters mostly to Oliver. She serves Elio heaping piles of food, muttering about how he’s too skinny, but focuses mainly on Oliver, cooing over how handsome and sweet he is. 

Annella and Samuel drive them to the airport and the four exchange tight hugs. Annella, of course, cries and Elio tries to hide from Oliver as he wipes tears from his own eyes. 

“Be good,” Annella says, petting Elio’s hair and kissing his forehead. “And you.” She sighs and cups both of Oliver’s cheeks. “Sweet boy. Thank you for everything, tesoro.”

“No, Mrs. P. Thank  _ you _ . You guys were amazing hosts. I don’t want to leave.” Annella kisses both of his cheeks and hugs him tight.

“Good luck on finals, Elly,” Samuel says as he ruffles Elio’s curls. “Keep learning and loving and living as you’ve done since you moved.”

“Love you,” Elio whispers, clutching at his father’s shirt. 

“We love you too, Elly.”

Elio watches as his father hugs Oliver as well, whispering some words to him that make Oliver smile. 

Soon enough, Elio and Oliver are left alone, sitting at the gate, holding hands and waiting to board. 

“This was nice,” Elio sighs, slinking down in the vinyl chair and resting his head on Oliver’s shoulder. 

“They should come visit us in New York.”

“Mmh. Maybe this summer. After I’m settled at your apartment. Our apartment.”

“Yeah. That’ll be nice.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/30209937188/in/dateposted-public/)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/43359607694/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, criticisms, ideas always welcome!! As always, [Follow Me On Tumblr](https://all-things-all-the-time.tumblr.com/) so we can scream about these boys!!! :)


	7. Chapter 7

They land at 6 am New York time the next morning. It’s Elio’s birthday, but they’re tired and jetlagged and so they just pile into a cab and slump against one another on the ride to Oliver’s apartment.

As soon as they’re in the door, Elio beelines for the bedroom, stripping along the way. He flops down face first, groaning as his head hits the pillow. “Why did we take a red-eye?”

“I need to pick up Jackson,” Oliver sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Noooo, c’mon.” Elio reaches for Oliver and pulls at his shirt. “ ‘s my birthday. Nap for a little.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. Oliver settles under the covers next to Elio, wrapping strong arms around his torso. Elio makes a content little sound and snuggles back against Oliver, falling asleep in seconds.

When he wakes up next it’s to soft whispers against his ear and something wet and warm on his hand. 

“Happy birthday, baby.” Elio finally recognizes Oliver’s voice as he starts to come out of his stupor. Oliver kisses over his ear and jaw. “C’mon, wake up. I’ve got presents for you.”

“Mmmh...Oliver, stop sucking my fingers, you’re making them all wet.” Oliver laughs, right against his ear, and Elio’s brows furrow. Suddenly, it dawns on Elio and he’s up in a second. “Jackson!” At the sound of his name, Jackson leaps up onto the bed. He’s normally not allowed, but Oliver lets it slide, just this once. “I missed you so much,” Elio coos, kissing Jackson's face and scratching behind his ears. 

“He missed us too. Jumped all over me when I picked him up.”

“When did you go? We just went to sleep like five minutes ago.”

Oliver laughs and joins Jackson in kissing Elio. “Babe, it’s 1. You’ve been asleep for almost 6 hours.”

Elio checks his watch as if he doesn't believe Oliver. “Fuck! Fuck, it’s 1!”

“I just told you that.”

“I wasted the entire day in bed.”

Oliver leans in and kisses the pout right off Elio’s face. “No, you didn’t. We still have the entire afternoon and all of tonight.” Jackson settles on Elio’s lap, curling up as best he can. “I got a birthday cupcake for Jackson and pastries from Rocco’s for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Oliver kisses Elio again, this time slow and soft. “Happy birthday, Elio,” he whispers. Oliver strokes his fingers over Elio’s cheeks before carding his hands through soft curls. “C’mon. Pastries await.”

Jackson pads behind them, hesitating for a second as they go their separate ways. Elio gets settled in the living room and Oliver heads into the kitchen. Jackson eventually decides to follow Elio. He seems to know that Oliver is going to sit next to Elio, so he smooshes himself between Elio and the arm of the couch. 

Oliver returns a few moments later with two plates, one with a dog-friendly cupcake and the other with a ricotta pasticiotti, both with lit candles. Oliver begins singing happy birthday, and Elio joins in, singing directly to Jackson who laps at Elio’s cheek. Elio blows out the candles on both his and Jackson’s treats before Oliver slips a birthday hat on Jackson’s head.

“Are you kidding me?” Elio laughs with a fond roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, you’re gonna fucking love this picture,” Oliver says, carefully holding the cupcake in front of Jackson, his phone poised above as he snaps the photo.

“You’re right,” Elio admits later, full from his pastry, as he flips through Oliver’s phone, “this picture is adorable.”

“So what do you want to do today, birthday boy? I have something booked at 4:30 and dinner reservations for us at 7 but otherwise, the day is yours.”

“Can we take Jackson to the park? Read for a little?”

“Mmh. We can do that.” Oliver noses at Elio’s jaw and kisses at his neck. “I can give you your first gift.”

“ _ First _ ? Like there’s more than one?”

“Maybe,” Oliver murmurs against Elio’s neck.

“You spoil me.”

“You like it.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

They head out to Washington Square Park, picnic blanket in hand as well as plenty of toys for Jackson. They set up on a shady bit of grass and let Jackson off his leash. He’s a good enough dog that he meanders close by before coming to plop on the blanket within petting distance. Elio lays back and settles with his head in Oliver’s lap.

“So where’s my gift?” he teases, dropping his hand to Jackson’s back Oliver starts combing his fingers through Elio’s hair and Elio subconsciously matches the movements through Jackson’s soft fur.

Oliver fishes around in his bag for a bit before producing a book. “Here you are. Happy birthday, baby.”

“Oh, Oliver,” Elio sighs, sitting up a little bit and taking the book. “Where’d you find this?” It’s a copy of  _ Heptaméron _ , a collection of French short stories his mother used to read to him as a child. He’d mentioned it before, remembering the stories fondly. He’d lost his copy somewhere in Rome during a family holiday and wasn’t able to find another.

“A little bookshop near Prospect Park. I wasn’t going to go in, but I saw they had a tiny French flag inside so I figured I’d try my luck.”

“Thank you so much.” Elio starts flipping through the pages, smiling as he skims through familiar stories.

“Will you read it for me?” Oliver asks a few minutes later. “Pick your favorite one.”

“French or English?” Elio asks as he expertly flips through the book.

That’s a tough question and Oliver considers for a moment. He loves when Elio speaks French or Italian, but he’s been wanting to hear some of these stories for so long. “English,” he finally decides, resuming his gentle strokes through Elio’s hair.

Elio clears his throat before starting. “A handsome young knight is madly in love with a princess. She too is in love with him, though she seems not to be entirely aware of it. Despite the friendship that blossoms between them, or perhaps because of that very friendship, the young knight finds himself so humbled and speechless that he is totally unable to bring up the subject of his love. One day he asks the princess point-blank: ‘Is it better to speak or die?’”

“So does he or doesn’t he?”

“Shh, will you let me finish?” Elio continues reading, his steady voice lulling Jackson to sleep. 

After Elio is finished reading, they crack into their packed lunch and take turns tossing Jackson’s ball for him to go fetch. “He’s gotten a lot better,” Oliver remarks as Jackson dutifully trots back over with the ball in his mouth. He drops it in a slobbery mess and Oliver throws it again, watching as Jackson takes off.

“It’s all my tough love,” Elio boasts, teasing of course. “You let him off too easy. Just gave up when he didn't want to bring it back. But now look at him.” Elio nods over to Jackson who is once more coming back with his ball. “I whipped him,  _ and you _ , into shape.”

Oliver rolls his eyes but doesn’t tease back. It’s Elio’s birthday after all.  

They head back to the apartment around 4 and feed Jackson before they have to head out again. Elio begged Oliver all afternoon to tell him what their 4:30 appointment was for, but Oliver held his tongue.

“Come on,” Oliver says, lacing his fingers through Elio’s and pulling him out the door. “The sooner we get there the sooner you get to find out what it is. Oliver leads the way, and just about ten minutes later, they arrive at their destination. 

“Ooh, Oliver, really?” Elio asks as Oliver opens the door of a modern looking spa, complete with tropical looking ferns lining the entrance.

“Yes, really. I booked a couples facial. I thought the massage was a little...much.”

“I’ve always wanted to get a facial,” Elio whispers as he steps inside, Oliver right behind him, “but I always thought it was too self-indulgent.”

“It’s your birthday, Elio. That’s reason enough to indulge.”

Oliver checks them in and they drink cucumber infused water as they wait for their estheticians. 

“Thank you,” Elio says later as they head back to the apartment. “That was really special, Oliver. You’re...” He feels refreshed and relaxed and he squeezes Oliver’s hand as they walk. “Love you.”

Oliver laughs and kisses the top of Elio’s head. “You’re welcome, baby. You deserve a little pampering.”

They take Jackson out for a quick walk before getting ready for their dinner reservation. “ _ Please _ , can you tell me where you’re going?” Elio begs for the hundredth time as he towel dries his curls.

“It’s a surprise.” Oliver rifles through his closet, smiling to himself at just how many clothes Elio has left at his apartment.

Elio spends a good ten minutes saying goodbye to Jackson before Oliver finally drags him out of the apartment. 

“- and then she goes totally ballistic and just -” Elio stops short and his jaw unhinges. “Tocqueville?” he breathes, eyes wide as he looks between the restaurant and Oliver. “We’re going to  _ Tocqueville _ ? Oliver, this is too much.  _ Far _ too much. We really don’t - We can go somewhere else. The Smith! That’s right near here.”

“Shh, baby.” Oliver pulls Elio against him and kisses him, effectively shutting him up. “You deserve this.”

They’re seated at a quiet table for two and Oliver orders a bottle of champagne just as soon as they sit down.

“It’s legal now,” Elio says with a smirk as the waiter pours him a glass. Oliver chuckles and they clink their glasses together in a toast before taking a s,ip. “Oh that reminds me,” Elio says, putting his glass down, “you’re coming to my birthday thing with my friends right?”

“Of course I am.” Oliver laughs and reaches across the table for Elio’s hand. “Did you come up with your list of bars yet?”

“I contributed two places but Jason said they’re planning the rest of it.” Elio shrugs, but he’s smiling. “I trust them to get me totally obliterated, and that’s all that matters on one’s 21st birthday in New York, right?”

“Brat.” 

“You love me.”

“I do. Very much.”

Elio orders the duck and Oliver the trout. They end up stealing bites off of each other’s plates, debating over which entree is better. They order dessert, and over chocolate souffle and passion fruit pavlova, Oliver presents Elio with his final gift of the night. 

“Happy birthday,” Oliver says softly, pulling a small box out of his pocket. He places it on the table in front of Elio who eyes it skeptically.

“Oliver. Too many presents.” They ordered a second bottle of champagne halfway through dinner, and Elio is pleasantly buzzed. 

“Go on. Open it.”

Elio does as he’s told and he takes the lid off the box and as soon as he does, he looks up at Oliver with a huge smile. “Oliver -”

“I know we talked about you moving in when the semester ends, and obviously that still stands. So you can save that key until then since your student housing technically isn’t up. But if you want to move in sooner like...like as soon as you want. You can.”

Elio takes the silver key out of the box and turns it over between his fingers. “Thank you.” He squeezes Oliver’s hand and then brings Oliver’s fingers to his lips, kissing over them. “Thank you, Oliver. This is,  _ fuck _ , this is the best birthday I’ve ever had.” He looks at the key again, unable to keep the huge smile off his face. “Can I move in tomorrow?

“Yeah, baby. Of course, you can. Now hurry up and finish your souffle. I want to take you home and fuck you.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/140142421@N03/43236874835/in/dateposted-public/)

Elio moves in two days later on a day he and Oliver both get out of class early. It takes a few hours, and more than a few trips, but soon, all of Elio’s belongings are at Oliver’s apartment. He’s still technically enrolled in NYU housing, but Jason is more than happy to have their apartment to himself for the last few weeks of school.

The rest of the afternoon and evening is spent unpacking and they order an ungodly amount of pizza for dinner. It’s not until they're getting ready for bed that Elio starts to feel a bit awkward.

“You okay?” Oliver asks through a mouthful of toothpaste. 

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Can uh, can I use your toothpaste? I didn’t bring mine.”

“Elio, you don’t have to ask to use toothpaste. C’mon you know that.” He spits into the sink and rinses his mouth. “You’ve stayed here enough times to know that.”

“Yeah, but it’s different now.”

After saying goodnight to Jackson and making sure he’s set up with water and his favorite blanket for the night, Elio and Oliver crawl into bed. Elio lays stock still under the sheets, staring up at the ceiling.

“Baby,” Oliver whines, trying to pull Elio against him, “c’mon, what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” Elio says quickly. “Nothing, I promise.”

“You asked to borrow toothpaste. You’re not snuggling. Earlier today you asked if it was okay for you to use a glass for your soda. Was it too soon for you to move in? Fuck, I didn’t pressure you or anything, did I?”

“No, no.” Elio finally turns into Oliver’s arms and he presses their noses together. “No, I  _ want _ to be here. Really I do. I just don’t want to overstep or anything.”

“Elio, you’re not overstepping at all. This is your home now. You’re welcome to anything you want, you know that.” Oliver sighs and shifts a little so that they’re totally pressed together, legs tangled. “I’d give you anything.  _ Everything _ . My toothpaste, my glass, hell, I’d give you my name if you asked.”

“Will you? Give me everything? Your name?”

“Oliver.” As soon as his own name is out of his mouth, Oliver feels a sort of overwhelming relief wash over him. Oliver smiles, cups Elio’s cheek, and kisses him hard. “Oliver.” He lets his name roll off his tongue, sighing out each individual syllable

“Elio.” Elio’s name comes out more rushed, more eager, more urgent. “Elio, Elio, Elio…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noy entirely too proud of this chapter. Feel like it's sorta lazy/not well written but ANYWAYS I just really needed to get something out to push through the writer's block. 
> 
> AND SO thus marks the end of Italy, 2018! The next vignette of this 'verse will be out soon, for sure :) Thanks to you all for the love, kudos, and comments along the way!! xoxo :)
> 
> Comments, criticisms, ideas always welcome!! As always, [Follow Me On Tumblr](https://all-things-all-the-time.tumblr.com/) so we can scream about these boys!!! :)


End file.
